Redemption's A Bitch - 4. Do You See The Pretty Boy Standing In The Shadows?

They took the Kawasaki, because it was the biggest, loudest and brashest of all Kieran’s bikes, and because he had a spare matching acid green helmet, and because it’s engine thrummed the hardest. He had to fit the little black leather seat onto the pillion post before Robin could mount it, but that was only the work of a moment, and by the time the boy had scooted in against his back, Kieran had the engine running, and the garage door sliding upwards out of sight.

“This is insane Robin…” He muttered softly, and Kieran loved to hear inside his own helmet that the boy spoke to himself.

“You ready back there?” Kieran asked him. “You might wanna hold on tight this time.”

“Fuck!” Robin’s expletive made his head ache for a second. “I can hear you.”

“There are mics and speakers in all the helmets babe. Even gives you radio.”

There was a long moment of silence, then:

“Don’t call me ‘babe’. Just drive.”

Kieran bit back a snarl, because he knew that Robin would hear him, and took a back route through the city which required lots of twists and turns and forced Robin to hold onto him, tight and close, as they drove. The boy was so spiky, and Kieran suddenly wished that he didn’t desire him so much. It was almost irritating to want the boy when he spoke with such a derisive tone. If it had been anyone else, Kieran would have just kept pushing until Robin folded, surrendered and submitted to Kieran’s more forceful will, but part of him held back. He was not a complete arsehole, and he knew that there were pretty boys who he’d lied to and hurt, people who he’d tricked into believing that he loved them, then dropped them as casually as litter. If he did that to his cousin’s fiancé’s younger brother… Kieran didn’t much like to think of the consequences of that action. Better to not be interested in him at all.

Except that Kieran was interested. He loved and loathed that Robin held his attention. No one had really fascinated him like the boy did. He wanted Robin to smile at him, or to look at him with the same entranced and lustful gaze that had fallen on the bikes in the garage. He took his frustration out on the road, gunned the engine once they reached the seafront and pealed out in a roar along the promenade. The engine thrummed like a bass beat as they drew up outside one of Kieran’s usual dance haunts: beautiful, sweaty and slightly inebriated people spilling out onto the wide pavement to tease and taunt passers-by.

“Tristan!” The cat-calls, oooh’s and ahhh’s became peppered with his name as Robin swung off the bike, slightly more gracefully. Kieran kicked the stand, leant back with his boots on the ground and shook out his braid as he removed the helmet, running his fingers through his hair to free it. One of the club crowd ducked out from under the red velvet rope and shimmied over. “Tristan darling!” Air kisses. “You look like a straight-wet-dream, precious. Thank god you’re not!” He turned to Robin. “Good luck little boy.”

“He’s sightseeing.” Kieran said shortly. “Robin, this is William, his boyfriend owns the club.”

“Oh, we’d have never done it without your help Tristan!” William slapped his arm playfully. “The place is only crammed every night because you came along. Let me get a boy to bring you drinks, Tristan darling. What does your little sparrow want?”

“Ummm… Jack and coke?” Robin looked confused as William sashayed off. Kieran grinned at him.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

“Yes!” Robin handed back his helmet by thrusting it into Kieran’s chest. For his part, Kieran did not let on that the impact on his sternum had actually hurt, although it had. The boy was surprisingly strong. “You didn’t order anything.”

“Don’t have to.” Kieran shrugged, then smiled as a beautiful bar-boy with over styled hair and painted-on jeans appeared with a tray. “They know what I want.” He took the glass bottle of cream soda from the tray before handing Robin his high-ball glass “Here you are Sparrow.” Robin looked like he was about say something, but bit it back. “Thanks Matty. You’re a doll.”

“Love the bike Tristan Toyne. We haven’t seen this one in a while?”

“I only bring the Kawasaki for very pretty boys.” Kieran winked conspiratorially at him. “Don’t let on.”

Matty giggled, blushing, and wove his way back into the club, glancing back over his shoulder repeatedly. Robin arched an eyebrow and looked disapproving.

“He was flirting with you.”

“Yes.”

“Are you famous or something?”

“Have you been hiding under a rock for the last six years?” Ash-lay draped an arm over Robin’s shoulder, his half full martini sloshing in his other hand. “Don’t you know who you’re with sweetie?”

“Hi Ash-lay.” Kieran smiled.

“William’s Ralph is asking after you.” Ash-lay often referred to big muscly guys as belonging to their more camp partners. “He can’t get out from behind the bar. I think he wants to talk engine or something else suitably macho.” Ash-lay sipped his drink. “We’ll keep the Sparrow company for you.”

“Hey-!”

Kieran left Robin to have a completely pointless argument about his new nickname, and went to the bar. He’d first met Ralph on the track, at an open race day on the Donnington circuit, sitting astride a bright yellow Suzuki with a stripped out engine and exhaust the size of his thighs. Three laps later Kieran had passed him sitting on the grass next to the mess of the bright yellow Suzuki with a medic on hand, picking grit out of his forearm with tweezers, Ralph holding a cotton rag against his other knee to staunch the bleeding. They’d been firm friends ever since. Kieran loved to fix bikes, especially bikes that were loved, adored, and had been hurt on the track. He and Ralph had spent most of the weekend slaving over the machine, Ralph wincing when he though Kieran couldn’t see, and once the Suzuki had been fixed, they found themselves talking business over beers in Ralph’s garage-shed. Kieran got on well with everyone, but he did enjoy proper conversations with guys who weren’t camp and full of glitter. He enjoyed his overly-gay friends, but he did not adore them.

“How’s tricks Tristan Toyne?”

“It’s good. I brought the green monster.” Kieran clapped hands with Ralph over the narrow black marble bar. “It’s packed tonight. Good business?”

“Oh they’re all intent on getting shit-faced.” Ralph grinned. “We need a track day soon. I’m gonna drop dead if I keep working this hard."

“Sure. I haven’t been out to the speedway in a while.” Kieran drained the rest of his drink, and it was instantly replaced by Ralph with another condensation-glistening bottle. “Pick a day next week and give me a ring OK? I just have to be back by-”

“Back by three.” Ralph nodded. “I know.” Ralph was one of the few people on the club circuit who knew about his afternoon commitment, and understood why he did it. “I’ll set it up.” Ralph had to serve someone else at the bar, but as he mixed the tall pink cocktail he tapped the bar in front of Kieran. “Tristan, there’s a really hot guy in a blue shirt walking right up to you. Dazzle him.”

Kieran smirked. Either Robin had come to drag him from the club, which the meant the boy wanted Kieran to himself, or he’d come to dance and flirt. Either option was a clear winner. Kieran waited until he could feel the heat of someone standing close behind him, turned, grabbed a fistful of blue cloth, and kissed him.

Only it wasn’t Robin.

Kieran was nothing if not committed to his actions, so even though he realised that the man was not the boy he’d left outside with his bike, he continued the kiss, laying waste to all the young man’s defences with his tongue before pulling back. He was not a total stranger, and Kieran matching the spikey blond hair and the Chinese coin on a leather thong around his throat to Pete. They’d hooked up once, and it had been good, but Pete had got a boyfriend for a bit, so neither of them had gone back for a repeat performance.

“Hey…” Pete sounded just a little bit amazed. “I was just going for a drink.”

“You can have my spot. Good to see you Pete.” Kieran took his bottle and wove his way out through the crowd. Robin was surrounded by Kieran’s club-associates and friend’s, and looked mildly uncomfortable. “Hey.” Kieran clinked their drinks. “Having fun?”

“Sure.” Robin didn’t sound very sure, and Kieran turned to glare at Ash-lay.

“Only nice things Tristan. I swear!”

“You want to go dance Sparrow?”

“Yes.” Right then, Robin sounded like he would have given whatever answer got him away from the crowd of admirers. They could be more than a little intense.

“I’ll park the bike up.” It took two minutes to move the bike close to the side of the club near the main door. Kieran chained it up, tipped the bouncer to keep a firm eye on the Kawasaki and the two helmets chained to it, and hurried back to Robin. “All set.”

“Why do they call you Tristan?”

“It is my name.”

“You go by your middle name?” Robin arched an eyebrow.

“Actually, ‘Tristan Toyne’ is my last name. My half of the family got an extra bit. Shas is just ‘Toyne’.” He shrugged. “Only my family calls me Kieran.”

There was a moment of silence as they entered the pulsing noise of the club, then Robin reached for his shoulder and spoke into his ear in order to be heard.

“You’ve slept with most of your friends who were out there, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Robin looked… a combination of disappointed and overwhelmed, and Kieran wondered if it would have improved his chances to deny the fact that he was a massive player. He couldn’t see what good it would do though, the boy would find out he’d been lied to pretty quickly. Kieran found his hand sliding around Robin’s narrow waist.

“Dance with me?”

“Umm…”

“Can’t hurt right?”

Robin’s jaw clenched. He moved out of Kieran’s open grasp and towards the dance floor. The music was good, and it was loud. Kieran didn’t even think about it, he didn’t have to, and simply found a space he liked and slipped into the bass beat of the music, letting the heavy drumming consume his pulse until he moved as though the music was being played with his movements, rather than the other way around. It was easy to become lost in between chord progressions, and by the time Kieran looked up, the hair that had escaped his braid was damp with the sweat of so many dancing bodies.

Robin was swaying to the music, dancing awfully close for a boy who had declared the evening not to be a date, and he looked beautiful. Kieran smiled to himself, struck by the boy’s wonderful lines and his slender body: he was perfect. The lights danced over him, highlighted his short hair and put greater contrast in the definition of his cheek and jaw. He looked almost… dangerous, and certainly tasty. The hooded eyes full of bright ice-fire sparks and the deep shadows between his parted lips were especially tempting. Kieran reached out to take his jaw, pull him close and kiss him soundly.

“Just dance.” Robin managed to whisper into the space between their mouths as he pulled away. “I love to dance.”

Kieran half growled under his breath, but it was much easier to be resigned to Robin’s current attitude than it was to be angry. Being angry took effort, and currently all of Kieran’s effort was taken up by dancing and watching Robin move. He doubted the boy realised how lovely he was, or how much Kieran wanted him. Kieran half scanned the room as he turned, spinning in a tight little circle, and when he looked back, Robin was watching him again, his eyes soft and sultry. Kieran knew better than to try and kiss him, but he couldn’t resist the desire to touch the boy. Softly, Kieran slid his hand along Robin’s jaw and throat, bringing him close, and whispered in his ear.

“You want a drink, little Sparrow?”

Robin nodded without speaking, and Kieran wondered if he’d pushed his luck too far with the nickname. As he wove his way through the crowd who parted magically to allow his passage (but stayed close enough to touch his skin) Kieran felt more frustrated than he had in his entire life. If this had been anyone else, Kieran would have had his tongue down the boy’s throat hours ago. Or he would have done a wham-bam-thank you ma’am number on the kid: screwed him and departed for other pastures. Kieran hated that Robin was resisting him so well.

He ordered the drinks from one of the relief barmen. It was getting on now and Ralph often went off duty around midnight to have a kip before returning at three am to finish closing up, check the accounts and set the alarms after his staff had left. As he waited Kieran found warmth spreading up his arm, and turned to lean against the bar to find Matty, the drinks runner, standing awfully close and looking awfully pretty.

“Hey.”

“Hi Tristan Toyne. How are you?”

“I’m good babe.” Kieran called everyone babe. It made it much less likely that he would use the wrong name during sex. “How’s your evening doing?”

“Oh, better now.” Matty’s tone dripped with suggestion. He placed his empty tray on the bar and turned so that his body was pressed up against Kieran. The boy ran a bold finger down his chest, and Kieran noticed that he was about the same height as Robin, if a bit on the skinny side. “Are you up to anything later?”

“I’m not sure.” Matty looked crestfallen; Kieran grinned. “But I’m not doing anything now.”

He wrapped his fingers with Matty’s, put the boy under his arm, kissed his temple and pulled him along to the bathrooms. Matty giggled and hummed under his fingers, and Kieran kicked open a stall, pushed the boy inwards letting the door slam shut behind them. He had his fingers in Matty’s sculpted hair, destroying his look, kissing him fiercely, all teeth and tongue. Matty moaned when Kieran let him go, leaning back against the door, effectively locking it with his body, hands on Matty’s belt to pull him forwards.

The boy’s fingers grabbed at the fly of his jeans, hurried on the buckle and studs, and Kieran growled in pleasure and relief as the boy’s fingers closed on his erection. He’d been more than half hard for an hour or more, the presence of Robin dancing close and hot doing predictable things to his anatomy. Kieran broke the kiss, his fingers in the back of Matty’s hair, pushing him to his knees. The boy went willingly, reaching for Kieran’s heavy cock, his lips damp and eager. His mouth was hot and tight and just what Kieran needed. He shut his eyes, tilted his head back and vibrated in pleasure. The noise of the club reverberated up his spine and made him dizzy.

He didn’t last long, and afterwards he brought Matty off in his hand, quick and dirty with the boy moaning and whimpering uncontrollably in his ear.

“Meet me later?” Matty glanced up at him with what was probably his best I Can Repeat That Performance and I’d Like To smile. Kieran muttered something non-committal and slipped out of the bathrooms.

He grabbed a glass of water off the bar and wove his way back onto the dance floor to find Robin. The boy was still dancing, but less so, swaying gently at the edge of the dance floor, watching the room and glancing around until his eyes landed on Kieran. Kieran proffered the half full cup of water to him and Robin glared at him, his brown eyes suddenly hard as flint, and turned away. Kieran caught him at the door and Robin snapped round with a growl.

“Where did you go?”

“Bathrooms.” Kieran was sharply defensive, and Robin pulled away and dashed for the door.

Kieran grabbed his upper arm as they reached the thick red velvet rope, and pulled the boy up against his chest by his bicep. Robin gasped in shocked and tried to yank himself from Kieran’s grasp. But Kieran was strong, and he could hold the throttle of a two-hundred horsepower superbike without it budging: Robin was no problem.

“Let go!”

“No!” Kieran snarled. “What the hell, Robin?”

“I saw you with him!” Robin snapped. “Don’t try and tell me that you weren’t in there with him.”

“So?” Kieran found his grip increasing on the boy. “You said this wasn’t a date.”

Robin pushed him, and Kieran let the boy go. They stood two feet apart on the pavement, and Robin shivered in the sudden cold, his anger not enough to defend him from the drop in temperature.

“I should have known better than to waste my time with you!” Robin’s voice overflowed with disgust. “You’re such a player that you can’t even be bothered to wait one evening to find out if I liked you. You worthless shit.”

“How dare you?” Kieran growled. “You fucking little upstart!”

“Fuck you!” Robin folded his arms over his chest. “Leave me alone!”

For a moment, Kieran almost did. He wanted to spin on one heel, stalk back inside the club, and not give a shit about Robin and his sulk. And he couldn’t. That almost irked him more than Robin’s defiance of him. He sighed and began to dial.

“Hey, yeah, could you send Bernie out to The Waterfront? Soon as, thanks.” Robin was glaring at him when he looked up. “I called you a cab. I’ll get you home.”

“I don’t need you.”

“Sure, ‘cause I’m dick enough to let you walk for three hours to get home in the dark by yourself. Don’t be an arse.”

They waited in moody silence until the cab came, and Robin climbed silently into the back while Kieran folded his arms and chatted to Bernie through the window.

“Pop it on the account.”

“No problem, Mister Tristan. Am I coming back for you later?”

“No thanks Bernie, I’ve got the bike.” Kieran jabbed his thumb in some random direction over his shoulder. “Just make sure he gets in OK, and call me when you’ve dropped him off.” He saw Bernie’s look of concern. “I’m fine, thanks Bernie.” He took a deep breath. “Goodnight Sparrow.”

A cold shoulder was his only reply.

He sat at the bar, nursing a coke which had been shown the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, really wishing that he didn’t feel quite so miserable. All and any that approached him got rudely shrugged away, and for an hour or so, Kieran allowed himself to be an un-personable, uncharismatic bastard. Ralph didn’t try and talk to him, he knew better, and it wasn’t until Matty slid a narrow hand around Kieran’s waist that he looked up to meet the boy’s gaze in the mirror behind the many bottles.

“Hey.”

“Hey there pretty.” Kieran switched on the charm as he turned to Matty. The boy was still looking at him with big bright eyes full of lust and wonder. “You done for the night?”

“Yeah, I’m about done.” Kieran didn’t miss the way Ralph and the other relief barman rolled their eyes at the statement. Matty was obviously quite good at skipping out on the end of work.

“You want a lift home? I have a spare helmet.”

Matty was all giggles and awe to be offered the pillion seat on the bike, and Kieran switched off the microphone in the helmet before he handed it to the boy. He barely had to try, and natural charisma was all he needed to have Matty’s arms wrapped around his chest, fingers inside his jacket and feeling him up as they drove. The boy gripped him with his thighs, warmth spreading along his back and legs.

He lived in a trendy but run down part of town, a house with a little driveway overgrown with weeds and a hedgerow which hadn’t been pruned back in years. Kieran had to remind himself that it was not especially normal to have a ride on mower and a man who came round and did the pruning for you. Soon as the helmets were off, Matty was pressed up against him tasting like alco-pops and lip gloss, and Kieran kissed him back because it was the easy thing to do. Instinct took over, and Matty was pliable as warm butter in his hands. Kieran stripped away his meagre defences; undid his skinny jeans and pushed them down, then turned the boy and bent him over the warm seat of the Kawasaki to reveal his moon-pale arse. Kieran was the kind of guy who travelled with condoms and lube ready, and it was the work of a moment to get prepared before impaling the boy with a soft scream of mixed pain and pleasure. Matty groaned his name, calling him ‘Tristan’, ‘god’ and ‘fucking jesus’ under his breath and in a high panting tone that normally made Kieran feel bold. They fucked with rough abandon, and as Kieran pounded the boy over the edge, feeling his lithe little body clench tight like the warm silk purse of a greedy accountant, he found another beautiful boy’s name on his lips.

“Nnughh! Robin…” Kieran’s fingers gripped against the smooth metal of the bike as he came. “Ohhh, yeah…”

Kieran took deeper breathes to steady himself than he thought he would have to before pulling out of his partner with an obscene slurp. He cleaned himself up, and they both straightened their clothes rather quickly. Matty took his jaw for a kiss, and Kieran obliged. Neither of them said a word about what Kieran had said.

“Night Matty.”

“Night Tristan Toyne.”

Kieran didn’t even watch him go, but simply pulled on his helmet, stowed the spare and swung his leg over the bike. Matty hadn’t been able to fully clean his emission from the leather seat, and Kieran knew he’d probably have to have the thing replaced unless he wanted to answer prying questions at every single track event he took the green monster to.

There had been times, few and far between, when Kieran had wanted another, or had forgotten the name of his date, but he’d always covered for that. Never in his life had he slipped up so monumentally as to moan someone else’s name while having sex. He felt guilty about it.

Kieran did not like felling guilty. He never felt guilty. Not for stealing Ash-lay’s boyfriends or for leading on his dates and one-night stands. Kieran knew his behaviour was that of a self-obsessed bastard, but he’d never really cared about it. Now he started up the bike, the engine roaring loud enough to wake the dead, and drove home feeling shit about himself.